


To Catch a Trout

by Zazou



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: A.U., F/M, Gen, Hostage Situations, Not actually incest, Sansa is a Greyjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zazou/pseuds/Zazou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Greyjoy has been a hostage in the Riverlands since she was eight years old. When she's moved to Riverrun an opportunity presents itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I’m addicted to A.U.s where Sansa was born into different houses. This idea has been floating around my head for a while now I even prompted it on asoaif kink meme but no one responded.----

Sansa Greyjoy shifted in her worn saddle trying to relieve the dull ache in her thighs and back. Normally she enjoyed riding but this was the longest journey she’d been on in years and her body was beginning to grow sore. As a highborn maiden, her place would normally be in the wheelhouse with Lady Bracken and her handmaid. However, Lady Bracken had insisted that she ride with the men, to keep her humble and remind everyone that she was an iron born hostage, not a true lady. 

Sansa pulled her gray cloak tighter around herself as her tired palfrey trudged forward finally reaching the top of the rocky hill. As the elm trees thinned out around her Sansa caught her first unobstructed glimpse of Riverrun. It's imposing towers jutted up into the sky and flying buttresses that appeared to dart and sweep around the holdfast giving a sense of movement. 

“It’s a fine sight.” Lord Jonos proclaimed. 

Sansa’s turned her head to see her warden standing tall atop his mighty red stallion just like the one embroidered on the brown tunic stretched across his barrel chest. He stroked his bushy brown bread a far-off glint twinkling in his dark beady eye. Sansa knew that the glint mean he was about to reminisce and launch into yet another dull rambling lecture. He opened his mouth but was thankfully interrupted. 

“Stop! stop!” Lady Bracken ordered her shrill voice piercing the chilly morning air and starling some sparrows in a nearby elm tree.  
The wheelhouse came grinding to a halt and Lady Bronwyn Bracken tumbled out looking dazed and queasy. 

“You alright my lady?” Her husband inquired. 

Sansa had always thought that her jailers made an odd pair. Lord Jonos looked like he’d been chiseled out of a boulder but he was so stout that he couldn’t even look his wife in the eye and was stuck addressing her breasts. 

“All this jostling about is playing havoc with my nerves!” Lady Bronwyn complained one hand clutching her stomach while the other checked to make sure that the teetering tower of braids atop her head had stayed in place. 

“Well, we’re almost there.” 

Lady Bronwyn snapped her fingers and her handmaiden Rhiannon rushed to her mistress’s side with a hand mirror. She shifted her head from side to side studying her face in the small mirror. Her features were sharp and angular like a heron and no amount of creams or powders could soften the severity of her aspect. She looked up from her mirror and shot Sansa a haughty glare.

“You know, you should be grateful for the Tully’s generosity. It’s far more than the likes of you deserve.”

They all knew the real reason Sansa was moving to Riverrun had nothing to do with generosity. Lord Jonos Bracken had plenty of daughters in need of husbands but every time he invited suitors to Stone Hedge they ended up paying far more attention to Sansa than his daughters. So after much nagging from his wife he had written to his Lord paramount and suggesting that perhaps it would be more fitting for the Greyjoy hostage to live with the Tullys. And so now here they were arriving a sennight early for the harvest festival in order to deliver Sansa to her new prison. The only positive was that the Bracken girls had all caught red spots so at least they weren’t traveling with them. 

Still, Sansa meet her jailer’s cold haughty gaze with a smile and bowed her head demurely. Greenlander put a high value on the illusion of civility.

“Indeed, I am most grateful Lady Bracken. I shall endeavor to be a most gracious and humble ward in order to repay the Tullys for their kindness.” 

Oddly enough she actually was grateful. Nine years ago Sansa had arrived at Stone Hedge a terrified eight-year-old girl with nothing but the clothes on her back and mewing calico kitten cradled in her arms. Every since that day she’d been treated as not just an outsider but a burden. Moving to Riverrun was an opportunity for her to reinvent herself. Which was why Sansa had put a lot of thought into her attire, wearing a modest heather colored gown with pansies embroidered along the collar and sleeves and styling her ginger hair in a simple fishtail braid. The Ironborn were perceived as ruthless murders and arrogant savages so she’d learn to overcompensate by playing the part of the humble and innocent carefree maiden. 

If Sansa was clever and enterprising enough she could befriend both the holdfast’s castellan and it’s steward and gradually become the unofficial lady of Riverrun. That is of course until the Tully heir married. Then Sansa would have to charm her newest jailer and make sure that she wasn’t perceived as a threat or else the new Lady Tully should surely cast her out. But she would worry about that when the time came. 

\---

During supper Sansa observed her new captors from afar. Lord Hoster Tully could have been chiseled from stone if not for his sparkling sapphire eyes. His face was gaunt, his once red hair turned silver but he still had a commanding presence. Though his body was wrinkled and frail he still held himself like a warrior, his voice had remained strong deep marking him as a commander and a leader of men. She could understand why Lord Jonos revered him so. After observing him interacting with Lord and Lady Bracken over the course of the meal Sansa concluded that he had a certain magnetism yet no warmth, charisma without the charm. He seemed like a hard man, fair but stern and unforgiving. Sansa wouldn't find any leniency with him. She could serenade him with pretty songs until she turned blue in the face or weave him a majestic tapestry glorifying his ancestral seat but no genteel act would convince him that she was anything more than a rebel pirate’s whelp. Her only hope would be impressing Lord Hoster with her nursing abilities. During her years of dealing with Lady Bracken and her eldest daughter’s various phantom illnesses, Sansa had learned a great deal from the maester. He seemed the type to be impressed by practical skills and common sense.

Sansa sighed and took a sip of her piping hot pepper crab stew letting herself indulge in self-pity for a moment but just a moment. She turned her focus onto the son and heir Edmure Tully. He was certainly a good-looking man with a thick red beard and bright blue eyes. His russet locks were a darker and deeper hue than Sansa’s own red hair with fewer golden highlights. He seemed far more personable than his father and spent supper making Lord Jonos laugh so hard that he spilled honeyed mead into his bread and complementing Lady Bronwyn till she blushed. Edmure may have lacked the austerity and self-restraint of his father but he was also unmarred by his aloofness. A gregarious pleasure-loving man like him would be much easier for Sansa to charm and befriend. 

\---

When Sansa awoke next morning she was told that the others had already dispersed. Lord Hoster and Lord Jonos were meeting with some ship builders in town Lady Bronwyn was in bed with suffering from one of her headaches and Lord Edmure had left a dawn for a hunting trip.  
She decided to take advantage of the leisure time to explore her new prison. She wandered down the second-floor corridor taking in dramatic archways and the vaulted ceilings. She reached out and touched the nearest granite column running her fingers over the fish scale pattern carved into it. It struck her that Riverrun seemed a reflection of Lord Tully grand and austere but with a distinct lack of anything feminine. It was odd that Lord Hoster had never remarried. There were plenty of willing candidates; Walder Frey would cut off his own arm to have one of his brood marry into the Tully line. Mayhaps he’d truly loved his late wife? But if the old trout was a secret romantic why did he resent his younger brother so for refusing to marry and why had he married off his youngest daughter to the ancient and haggard Jon Arryn? No, he was a pragmatist. Which was a shame really as it was much easier to manipulate romantics. 

Curious Sansa opened the mahogany door to her left and stepped into the adjoining room. She found herself in a sparsely decorated and clearly abandoned solar. It seemed odd that they would abandon a room with such a lovely view of the castle’s gardens. She noticed a dust-covered harp sitting in the corner and rushed over to it. What a stroke of good luck! She loved music but since none of the instruments at Stone Hedge belonged to her she hadn’t been allowed to bring them. Sansa decided that this would be her hideaway from now on. Part of being a good ward was never being underfoot and it helped to have a place to hide. She took a seat on a nearby stool began to play immediately losing herself in the music. 

“You play very beautifully.” 

Sansa jerked up with a start and was surprised to see Lord Edmure standing in the doorway. He was leaning up against the stone archway still dressed in his traveling clothes his face flushed from the hunt, his red curls windswept and his eyes bright from excursion. Gods, he was handsome. Sansa straightened her back and nervously smoothed out her moss green skirts. 

“Thank you, my lord.” 

“Do you like music, my lady?” 

She hesitated. Sansa was sure that Tom of Sevens singing about his “floppy fish” had left Edmure with a distaste for singers and bards. But if she attempted to win his favor by agreeing with him he would know she was lying. Anyone who saw her play could tell she loved music. Catelyn and Bess always made fun of the dopy grin she made whenever she performed. The young Tully struck Sansa as the sort of man who misliked lairs and sycophants. 

“I enjoy playing and love music but I’m not fond of bards. I find them crass and devious.” 

Edmure studied her for a moment then nodded seemingly satisfied with her response. He smiled revealing a set of rather endearing dimples and plopped down on top the dusty sette across from her before stretching his body out with cat-like grace. 

“Would you be so kind as to play a song for me?” 

“I would be honored, my lord.” She replied with a smile and started in on a rousing rendition of Florain and Jonquil. 

That night as Sansa sat by the fireplace carefully embroidering laughing mermaids onto the sleeves of one of her gowns she found her thoughts drifting back to Lord Edmure. She had enjoyed his company very much this afternoon. His affable temper and open manner were a refreshing change from the open hostility and resentment she faced at Stone Hedge. He was ever so dashing and gallant just like a knight from a Greenlander song. He was kind and honorable, everything her lord father wasn’t.

But no, Sansa needed to stop this nonsense. It was foolish to think of him that way. Her time at Stone Hedge had taught her her place and it was not on the arm of the future Lord paramount. But why not? She thought hotly. Why shouldn’t she be given the same chance as any other highborn maiden? 

Sansa was just as skilled in the feminine arts as any other lord’s daughter if not more so. She was far more diligent and dedicated to her studies than any of the Bracken girls, mastering the high harp, dulcimer, and flute and reciting Valyrain poetry perfectly by heart. Her embroidery was impeccable, her dance steps graceful, and her singing voice sweet and melodic. Sure, she was weak in arithmetic but all in all, Sansa would make a far better lady wife than any of her so called foster sisters! 

But no, none of that mattered. Her Greyjoy blood and status as a hostage left her somewhere between high and low born with no certain future and no clear way out. She heard a plaintive meow and looked down to see her calico cat Esgred rubbing up against her skirts. Sansa put her embroidery aside leaned down and picked up the cat placing her gently in her lap. Esgred curled up into a ball and purred contentedly as her mistress stroked her multicolored fur. 

Sansa sighed deeply and watched the flames dance and crackle in the fireplace before her. Yes, pursuing her infatuation would be stupid, harebrained, mad, even but what did she have without her dreams? She was trapped here anyway so she might as well amuse herself. Besides, if Sansa gave up all hope she feared she would truly go mad. 

\----

The next morning Sansa rose early. She brushed the tangles out of her red-gold hair while surveying her meager wardrobe trying to decide what to wear. Sansa had only ever been given the Bracken sisters’ cast offs. Septa Owena, a severe woman who had been forced into the motherhouse after Iron Born raiders slaughtered her family, only ever gave Sansa scrap material to sew with. But she used her creativity and eye for beauty to transform these threadbare old gowns into something pretty and tasteful. For years Sansa had watched as her captors showered their ungrateful daughters with finery envy eating away at her like maggots devouring a moldy biscuit. But now she had come to terms with it, she was a Greyjoy and would pay the iron price for everything she got. 

After much deliberation Sansa dawned a cornflower blue gown she’d made herself. It was plain but it’s cut, drape and color were all very flattering. With her blue gown and red hair she looked the part of a Tully already. Sansa skillfully wove pale pear blossoms into her hair, which she left down but pulled away from her face. Finally, she pulled out her most valuable possession, a vial of fragrant jasmine oil. It had been a gift to the Bracken’s eldest daughter Barbara but she had tossed it aside shrieking at her mother that she’d asked for lilac, not jasmine. So Sansa had pocketed the rejected perfume and had been using it ever since. She dabbed the sweet smelling oil on her neck and her inner wrists and was ready to go. 

She had heard from one of the squires that Lord Edmure liked to exercise early so Sansa wandered down to the practice yard with Esgred trailing behind her. Lucky for her Lord Edmure and his friend Marq Piper just so happened to be practicing their archery. So she perched on top of a barrel with her cat sitting on her lap playing the part of the enthusiastic fan, applauding ardently whenever either of them they made an impressive shot and showering them with praise. When they had finished for the day and the squires started collecting up their arrows Edmure approached her with a sunny smile which made her blush. 

“Good morning, Lady Sansa.”

“Good morning, my lord.” 

“Please, call me Edmure.” He countered with a magnanimous wave of his hand. 

This was the third time he’d asked her to call him by his first name. She’d continued calling him my lord in an effort to appear humble and proper. Greenlanders hated it when they suspected her of putting on airs. 

“And who is this little fellow?” He inquired gesturing to Esgred. 

“Her name is Esgred. She’s my constant companion.” 

With that Esgred leaped from her mistress’s lap and padded over to the young Tully lord. She fixed her yellow-green eyes on him as if taking his measure and then satisfied she rubbed up against his fine leather boots scent marking him. 

“She likes you.” Sansa observed giving him a shy smile. “She’s normally very timid.” 

That was a bold faced lie. Esgred craved attention above all things. She’d roll on her back and demand tummy rubs from the Stranger itself. As a kitten, she’d even taken a liking to Sansa’s infamous uncles Victarion and Euron presenting them with dead sparrows and mice as love tokens. But her comment made Edmure grin and that was all that really mattered. 

“Well, she’s quite a beauty.” 

He reached down and scratched Esgred behind her ear making her purr. She rolled on her back and the lordling obliged her by kneeling down and rubbing her exposed belly. 

“I’m most grateful for her company as it can get rather lonely at Stone Hedge.”

Sansa didn’t mention that Esgred was her one last connection to a home and family that she would probably never see again. It wasn’t lady-like to share such ugly truths, especially with a potential beau. 

“Really? Don’t the Bracken’s have five girls? I would have thought that you’d have no shortage of companions.” 

The Bracken sisters, her companions? More like her tormentors. Barbara was as volatile as wildfire and always found a way to blame everything on Sansa. Overly pious Jayne took every opportunity to remind Sansa that her deceased brothers were burning in the lowest of the seven hells and that since Sansa had not been named in the light of the seven she was doomed to join them. Catelyn and Bess were only a year apart in age and formed a mischievous duo always pulling pranks on Sansa such as stuffing her mattress with sheep shit, stealing her freshly laundered clothes and covering them in soot or sticking them down the privy. During her first sennenight at Stone Hedge Catelyn and Bess had snuck into her bedchamber while she slept and snipped off her braid. In took months for her hair to grow back, months she had to spend looking like a boy in a dress with her ugly short hair. Ever since that night, Sansa had set a bell at the top of her bedroom door so any intrusion would wake her up. As for Alysanne…well young Alysanne had actually been sweet to her at first but after awhile she’d picked up on the whole household’s disdain for Sansa and distanced herself from her father’s ward. 

“I am not their companion my lord, but their hostage.” 

Edmure frowning cocked his head to the side and for a moment it felt as though he was looking right through her with his summer blue eyes. 

"Your brother Theon is my sister’s ward at Winterfell. She has raised him right alongside her own children." 

“Not everyone is as gracious and kind-hearted as your lady sister, my lord.” 

Good move, compliment his sister and gain his pity. Sansa folded her hands neatly in her lap and looked down at them. 

"Lady Bracken has never allowed me to write to my brother." 

She nervously licked her lightly chapped lips and waited with baited breath for his reaction. She’d taken a risk; he might think her a brat for complaining. Edmure stood up abruptly. Esgred scrambled to her feet and meowed at him reproachfully, annoyed that he’d stopped petting her. 

“Well, you’re a ward of Riverrun now and you can write to your brother whenever you like.” 

The risk had paid off! She looked up at him eyes glowing. 

“Truly my lord? Oh, thank you!” 

In truth Sansa hadn’t the faintest idea what she would say to her long-estranged brother but she’d given Edmure the chance to play hero. Greenlanders loved that; it made them feel righteous and powerful. 

“Would you like me to give you a tour of the castle?”

“I’d be honored my lord.” 

“Edmure.” He corrected with a playful wink making her heart skip a beat. 

“Edmure.” Sansa repeated dutifully as she tucked her arm through the crook of his elbow. 

\---

Lord Edmure showed Sansa around the grounds telling her tales about the holdfast’s history and anecdotes from his childhood. He brought her to the elm tree that he’d fallen off of breaking his arm and gleefully confessed to being the one who christened the Master of Coin Littlefinger. For her part, Sansa was an attentive listener and laughed in all the right places. She envied him his happy childhood. Sansa had so few happy memories of her own. Most vivid memories of home were of her father’s turbulent failed rebellion but there were a few pleasant memories buried in there as well. She could recall watching Rickard and Maron sparring, collecting seashells along the rocky coastlines with her mother and playing mermaids and krakens with Asha and Theon. As she listened to Edmure talked it dawned on Sansa that he epitomized everything that her lord father hated most about the Greenlanders, cocky, entitled, spoiled, filled with nonsensical notions about chivalry and gallantry. Compared to an Iron Born man the Tully heir was soft as cheese and yet Sansa was drawn to him. Mayhaps it was even part of the reason that she was attracted to him in the first place. 

Sansa believed that to know a man you must discover what he wanted. From what she could see Lord Edmure wanted to be loved and admired. He wanted a chance to prove himself and play the noble hero. Her father would have seen this as proof of his weakness and call him a disgrace. But if these Greenlanders were all so weak why had they bested her father? That was a question she could never answer. In pursuing Edmure was she betraying her father and the memory of her dead brothers? No, Sansa reassured herself, she was just being resourceful making the most of her situation and striving to succeed. 

At any rate, the point was that to seduce Edmure Sansa would need to appeal to his sentimental streak and stroke his ego. As he taught her how to skip stones on one of the garden’s serene ponds she realized that theirs would need to be a true love story like one from the Greenlander’s silly yet beautiful songs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the idea of Edmure/Sansa is more than a little strange because of their canon relationship but they compliment each other nicely. They're both idealistic people pleasers. Edmure’s a bit of a man-child and in this verse Sansa had to grow up quickly so they balance each other out a bit.
> 
> Interestingly in canon they are two of the few forgiving characters in the whole series. Edmure forgives Roslin for her part in the Red Wedding and Sansa forgives Joffery for getting Lady killed, which was dumb but still.

“What have you heard about the young master?” 

Rhiannon Rivers sighed deeply as she slumped down in her chair slipping out of her worn shoes. It had been a very long day then again any day in Lady Bronwyn’s service felt long. 

“Nothing much.” The beleaguered handmaid replied pulling the pins from her hair letting her mop of maple brown curls fall loose. She snagged a sweet biscuit from Sansa’s plate and nibbled at its edges before continuing.

“The servants speak well of him. He has no mistress to speak of high or low born and no known bastards.” 

Sansa nodded and took a sip from her glass of buttermilk. She was relieved that she wouldn’t have to contend with any mistresses. The odds were already stacked against her she didn’t need any competition. 

“A few of the chambermaids are sweet on him but I’m not sure if he’s tupped any of them.” 

Rhiannon popped the last bit of biscuit into her mouth and gave Sansa a knowing look.

“Why do you ask?” 

A coy smile crept across her face and she shrugged turning her attention back to the gown she was mending. Esgred yawned and stretched arching her back. The cat then leapt up onto the table and began lazily licking her paw.

“No, reason.” 

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Rhiannon crowed shooting her a cheeky grin as she leaned over and scratched Esgred under her chin. 

“The kraken princess is aiming high and fishing for a trout.” She teased waggling her bushy eyebrows and spraying bits of sweet biscuit as she spoke. 

Sansa blushed while rethreading her needle. Was it all truly that transparent? 

“This is why you were always rejecting Lady Barbara’s and Lady Jayne’s sloppy seconds.” 

Rhiannon shook her head and let out a surprisingly warm cackle. 

“Gods above, Lady Bronwyn would shit a brick if you succeeded!” 

Sansa smirked and helped herself to a sweet biscuit. Outranking her hag of a foster mother would feel amazing but she wasn’t as mercenary and calculating as her friend imagined. The truth was that if any of Barbara or Jayne’s suitors had courted her she would have set her cap at them. Hells, Sansa would have even settled for a bastard Frey or a handsome blacksmith if it meant getting away from Stone Hedge. But because of the widely held belief among that all Iron Born women were wild and uninhabited Sansa was only ever propositioned for quick tumbles in the hay. This was the first time she’d had a real chance for something more and she wasn’t going to waste it. 

“But you should be careful,” Rhiannon whispered conspiratorially. “a couple of the servants overheard Lord Hoster warning his son to stay away from you.” 

Sansa had guessed that their little flirtation wouldn’t go unnoticed for long. The day after he’d given her a tour of the castle Edmure had asked her to play for him in his study. Since then it had became their little ritual; she would play the harp and sing love songs for him while he went through his correspondence occasionally reading out interesting passages or asking for her opinion. A few days latter he’d offered to teach her archery, unaware that she’d learned how to use all matter of weapons during her childhood on Pyke. Sansa had never understood the appeal of the sport but their archery lessons did provide plenty of excuses for them to stand close and touch as he corrected her stance and posture. Between the sidelong glances they exchanged and his attentions their secret courtship was far from subtle.

“He called you the get of a traitorous pirate and said you were a cunning snake in the grass.”

Sansa pursed her lips together in distaste and pulled her thread taunt accidentally bunching up the hem of the gown she was mending. She’d known she would be meet with opposition, which was why she’d been doing everything in her power to gain favor and ingratiate herself into the Riverrun household. Like befriending the steward’s motherless son Rhys helping him with his lessons and even giving him her favor to wear in mock tourneys with the other boys. She’d even won over the Master at Arms by beating one of his men at a game of five finger fillet, the poor man had missed and stabbed himself in the knuckle, and eased Maester Seiriol’s load by tending to Lady Bronwyn’s headaches and mysterious pains herself. But of course her actions weren’t enough to impress the high and mighty Hoster Tully. The old fish was immoveable and stubborn as an ox. 

“But the young lord jumped to your defense quick as could be.” 

That was a good sign but it wasn’t enough. Edmure respected his father and wasn’t a rebel by nature. His eagerness to please would work against her. She rested her chin on her hand and sighed. This would all be so much easier if they observed the old ways then Sansa could just steal him and take him back to Pyke to be her rock husband. She needed to fan the flames before Edmure’s noble yet irritating sense of duty won out. She had to find a way to entice him; make him forget all about family honor and duty. But how? That was the pressing question. 

\----

Sansa looked on from her place at the back of the courtyard as the Tullys greeted the noble guests flooding into Riverrun for the Harvest festival. Pride blossomed in her chest as she observed Edmure interacting with his future bannermen. He was generous with his time and conversation and seemed to genuinely interested in the concerns of all his father’s lords and ladies. Her Edmure would make a fine Lord Paramount when his time came. Sure, he lacked a strategic mind and guile but he was public-minded and charitable with a keen interest in the well fare of the small folk. None of those qualities would impress her lord father but perhaps that was why he was such as poor leader himself. Anyway, Sansa could more than makeup for her soft husband's shortcomings for she was made of salt and iron. 

She held her head high and smiled at the incoming guests who threw curious glances her way. Yes, today Sansa Greyjoy was pushed aside forced to stand with the servants but at next year’s Harvest Festival she’d be at Edmure’s side, his proud lady wife helping him bring about a new golden age for the Riverlands. She smirked at the mental image of her foster mother curtseying low before her. It would all be worth it, she just had to bid her time. 

\---

For the welcoming feast Sansa dawned a sky blue gown with laughing mermaids embroidered on the sleeves and wore a wreath of jasmine blossoms in her hair. While her peers decorated their clothing with cloth of gold, damasks, jewels and rich furs, she could only use embroidery and her own handmade lace. Instead of wearing diadems, hairnets and dazzling baubles she had to make do with fresh flowers and pilfered ribbons.Yet even with all these disadvantages, Sansa was proud to say that she managed to stand out as she flitted about the Great Hall all smiles and pleasantries. 

She did her best to charm her jailer’s guests knowing full well that it would be an uphill battle; like trying to collect water using a bucket riddled with holes. The lords and ladies of the Riverlands saw her as nothing more but a trophy, a reminder of their hard-won victory over the Greyjoys. Besides, Sansa thought bitterly as she faked a smile and to listen Lord Piper yammer on while pretending not to hear his young sons gossiping about her just a few feet away, any good will she earned now would disappear in a puff of smoke once she married Edmure. She would go from harmless pirate trash to a villainous upstart and seductress who’d bewitched their future liege lord and stolen a position meant for one of their female relations. 

\----

After the feast an exhausted Sansa plopped down in front of her looking glass and started to undo her plaits when the door burst open and Lady Bronwyn glided in. Her foster mother was still clad in her feast clothes, a high-necked gown of blood red silk with a fine black lace overlay. She surveyed her former ward’s humble chamber with obvious disdain behaving as though she’d taken a wrong turn and somehow ended up in the latrine. 

“May I help you, my lady?” Sansa asked nervously as the other woman closed the door behind her. 

She jutted her sharp chin out and sniffed haughtily looking down her thin long nose at Sansa. 

"My lord husband still sees you as a mere sniveling squid whelp, but I know better."

"Lord Jonos is very gallant and sees the best in others." 

Honestly, Jonos seemed indifferent to her at best but indifference was the best she could hope for from a Bracken. Clearly unimpressed by the complement Lady Bronwyn narrowed her clear hazel eyes giving Sansa a stern look. 

“I see what you’re doing, throwing yourself at the heir of the house like the disgusting whore you are.”

Sansa bite her tongue and clenched her jaw. No matter what she said Lady Bronwyn would never believe that out of the four flowered young women at Stone Hedge Sansa was the only maiden left. Barbara had been playing “Come into my Castle” with the burly blacksmith’s apprentice for over a year now. She suspected that the eldest Bracken chose to dally with someone so far below her station because she loved being able to order her paramour about. Catelyn had given her maiden’s gift away to a handsome Bravosi bard. Even sanctimonious Jayne had indulged in a night of passion with Lucas Paege. Yet simply because of her Iron Born blood Sansa was consistently painted as the harlot of the group even though she had only ever endured a handful of bruising slimy kisses. 

It wasn’t her fault that she’d flowered early! She thought hotly fiddling with the jasmine wreath in her hands. She couldn't help that she’d inherited the Harlaw figure, buxom with wide birthing hips and a high backside. When she had first flowered Sansa used to curse her body for betraying her. She longed to have the bird-like features of the Bracken girls, to be dainty and delicate like a true lady. But no, instead she was cursed with the body of a bawdy traven wench. Sansa tried to dress modestly in loose fitting gowns with high necklines but no matter what she wore men always ended up leering at her. Their hungry gaze always made her feel dirty and cheap. 

“Lord Edmure is not some green boy you can wrap around your finger with as flash of teat and a quick fuck.” Her foster mother continued as she approached her. 

Sansa gasped and dropped her jasmine wreath letting it fall to the floor. Lady Bronwyn never swore! She’d once beaten Bess with a switch simply for saying the word shit. Her daughter hadn’t even been insulting anyone, for once, but was literally talking about some horse shit on the bottom of her shoe. 

Lady Bronwyn stepped on her jasmine wreath with her fine leather boots as she advanced towards Sansa. Her thin pale lips contoured into a smirk and a cruel glint twinkled in her eyes as she towered over her “foster daughter.”

“Lord Hoster is an honorable man and he will not allow you to besmirch his family’s good name and befoul his blood line with your pirate filth.” 

Now she was standing so close that Sansa could feel her hot breath on her face. It reeked of garlic sausages and sweet orange wine, the lady’s favorites. Still, she refused to back down and held her gaze, all the while keeping her face a serene mask. Krakens didn’t flinch in the face of stallions. 

“The best you could possibly hope for is that one night Lord Edmure gets so far in his cup that he’ll overlook your lineage and whelps a bastard into you.” She spat through clutched teeth. 

“And what do you think will happen then? You think he’ll keep you around as his mistress, or mayhaps even marry you?” 

She let out a humorless laugh and shook her head making the garnets in her hairnet catch the firelight and sparkle. 

“Not a chance, Lord Hoster will force tansy down your throat and throw you out into the street where you belong!"

Sansa’s stomach churned wildly as Lady Bronwyn gave voice to her internal insecurities and nagging doubts. It was a trap that many ambitious maidens had fallen into. Countless women had been promised the security of a wedding cloak only to be tossed aside at when they became inconvenient. Yes, Edmure was fond of her but even if she could turn that affection into love who’s to say that he would actually follow through and marry her. She could lose everything while he risked nothing. Yet another injustice. 

“Oh and when he does, don’t think you can come crawling back to me. You’ve imposed on my family long enough.” 

With that Lady Bronwyn glided out of the room leaving just as suddenly as she’d appeared. 

As soon as the door clicked shut Sansa angrily hurled a log on the fire with an un-lady like grunt sending sparks flying into the air. This same pointless struggle had been ruling her life since she was eight years old and she was fed up! 

Determined to prove everyone's assumptions wrong, Sansa had devoted herself to becoming a perfectly cultured lady ever since her very first day at Stone Hedge. But none of it mattered! Stuck between two worlds and welcomed in none, there didn’t seem to be any way out. Frustration bubbled up inside her at the senseless injustice of it all. She picked up her crushed jasmine wreath from the floor and tossed it into the fire. She flopped onto her bed with a heavy sigh and watched morosely as the flames devoured the delicate white blossoms filling the room with a sweet smelling smoke. 

No, she decide. This would not stand! Sansa Greyjoy would not sit idly by and let that lanky bird-brained harpy win. She may have crushed her spirits for years but she wouldn’t let her crush her dreams!

Sansa would turn what Lady Bracken and the others saw as her greatest weakness into her greatest strength. She was a Greyjoy damn it! Even if she never saw the islands again she would always have salt and iron running through her veins, giving her strength making her resourceful and tenacious. Unlike her competition, Sansa would use every weapon in her arsenal no matter how unsavory. Even if it meant becoming the exotic temptress they all thought her to be. She smiled to herself and began to hatch a plan. 

\----

The water felt deliciously cool against her skin as she floated in the river. According to the squires the hunting party was going to head south along the Tumble Stone river. Meaning that Edmure would surely spot her swimming; just as Florain the fool had stumbled upon fair Jonquil. But now doubts were starting to race through Sansa’s mind. Lady Bronwyn’s taunts the night before had made her act rashly and now she was unsure. 

What if they changed course? What if someone else came upon her instead? What if he saw through her rouse and thought her a desperate tart? But if it did work it would be magical a song come to life! 

Could she really do this? Wasn’t it wrong? Shameful even? No, the Drowned God did not concern himself with petty things like propriety and neither should Sansa. Those were the worries of a weak Greenlander. She was merely taking what was hers by right, paying the iron price for her future husband. 

Sansa quieted her the murky waters of her mind by focusing her surroundings; the dozens green and blue dragonflies dancing in the air around her, the croaking frogs and the rushing water tumbling over rocks slick with moss and algae. Even if this ploy came to nothing it was refreshing to be out in nature away from preying judgmental eyes for a while. 

The sound of horse hooves broke her out of her reverie and she leaped up and out of the water quick as a shadow cat. There on the other side of the river stood Lord Edmure his mouth agape open like a dying trout. Sansa flushed. She knew she must be quite a sight with her wet and translucent shift clinging to her hourglass figure. She quickly swept her hair forward covering her stiff pink nipples and folded her legs together to obscure her sex from view.

“Edmure.” A man’s voice called from somewhere deep in the forest. 

Remember, you’re a seductive temptress Sansa told herself sharply. She gathered her courage and pushed past her natural modesty brazenly raising her eyes to meet his. He stared at her flushed and wide-eyed like a frightened deer come face to face with a hunter’s crossbow. His horse, a red roan named Dragonfly, snorted impatiently and shifted from hoof to hoof eager to rejoin his friends in the hunt. 

“Ed!” The man’s voice was closer now. “Ed, come quick! The hart is getting away!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way I've based Sansa's "techniques" on famous women from history who seduced higher born men, i.e. Elizabeth Woodville, Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour ect.

\--

He came looking for her in the abandoned solar just as she'd known he would. 

“I must apologize for my behavior the other day.” Edmure said his normally cheerful tone solemn as he stared down at the floor shamefaced. It seemed that he couldn’t look at her without pink spots appearing on his cheeks.

“It was accident, my lord.” Sansa reassured him smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her cream houppelande. 

Catelyn had rejected the garment, a name day present from her grandmother, saying it was far too plain but it was perfect for Sansa’s purposes. She needed to undercut her previous actions by appearing prim and proper, the kind of maiden who would never dream of seducing a lord. 

“If it’s anyone’s fault it’s my own.” She added nervously fiddling with a string of prayer beads she’d borrowed from Rhiannon. 

“I should have picked a more secluded bathing spot.” 

Edmure shook his head ruefully refusing to be soothed by her words. He sighed and scratched his chin and running his fingers through his short beard. What his bread would feel like against her skin? Sansa wondered. Would it be rough? Would it tickle? 

“I just… you were sent here to protect your virtue from all those errant suitors and I go ahead and reenact bloody Florian and Jonquil with you.” 

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up disappearing into her light ginger mane. Her virtue? Was that the lie Lord Jonos had told? Yes, many men had pursued her but she had never feared for her virtue. Like every Iron Born woman before her, Sansa kept a blade strapped to her calf at all times and knew how to wield it. Besides what did the Brackens care about her virtue? They feed, clothed and sheltered her as the king commanded but they had no interest in her well-being. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” Edmure hurriedly apologized apparently taking her silence as a sign that he’d upset her delicate sensibilities. 

“It’s alright…I just….” She took a tentative step towards him and paused for dramatic effect.

Finally he looked up at her. There was something twinkling in his summer blue eyes that she couldn’t place. Curiosity? Hope? Lust? Anyway, time to reel him in using the strongest weapon of all, the truth. Sansa swallowed the lump in her throat and took another bold step forward. 

“When the others used to look at me I always felt dirty…but” She licked her lips and gazed up at him through her lashes. 

“when you look at me I…well, I feel beautiful.” 

His eyes softened and Sansa knew she had him. 

“That’s because you are.” Edmure whispered approaching her.

He reached out and gingerly laced their fingers together. How had she never noticed how large and wide his hands were? His fingers were long and tapered perfect for a harpist. Instinctively she held herself taut and breathed in, filling her nose with his scent a homey medley of pine and soap with a hint of citrus. As Edmure leaned in Sansa realized that this was it. He was finally going to kiss her and the anticipation left her breathless. As soon as her eyelids fluttered shut she felt the warmth of his lips pressed against her’s. She could taste the lemon water he always drank in the morning and his short beard was softer than she’d expected. It was entirely different from the sloppy kisses she'd endured in the past before introducing the pushy suitors to her blade. It was slow and languid, all lips and soft sighs. Mayhaps it felt different because she actually wanted this kiss. He ran his tongue softly along Sansa’s bottom lip and she opened her mouth with a little huff, his tongue teasingly brushing against hers.

A part of her wanted to give in and surrender herself to the tingling sensation spreading through her body but Sansa needed to make sure she walked away from this with more than just a bastard in her belly. She jerked away inhaling sharply and covering her mouth with both her hands in mock horror. Sansa turned away acting as ashamed as septa caught in a brothel.

“Forgive me, you must think me terribly wanton and wicked.” 

“Not at all, I...” 

Right at that moment the door creaked open and Owen, Edmure’s pimple-faced squire stumbled in on his bowed legs. 

“Forgive me my lord, but your father is asking for you.” 

Edmure glowered at the unfortunate young man but Sansa smirked behind her hand. Perfect timing, always leave them wanting more.  
\----

That evening Sansa débuted a new gown she’d been working on for a fortnight. She’d taken an old ivory gown that Jayne had outgrown and tailored it to fit her body like a glove. Then she’d painstakingly sewn swan feathers onto the sleeves and bodice, before finishing it off with a sash of lace she’d made by hand that cinched in her slender waist perfectly. She brushed her hair until it shone like rose gold and pulled it away from her face by weaving in a few white feathers and ivory ribbon. 

As soon as Sansa entered the Great Hall Sansa felt Edmure’s eyes seeking her out but she purposefully ignored him. Instead, she chatted animatedly with Lord Blackwood bonding over their shared contempt for the Brackens. She jabbered and japped making sure that her musical laughter was loud enough to carry all the way up to the dais. She relished Edmure’s heated gaze as she feasted on fresh lemon cakes baked in the shape of stars. The cook, Malora, knew that lemon cakes were her favor. 

When old Lord Motoon drunkenly called out for the musicians to play a jaunty tune Sansa was the first woman asked to dance. She moved gracefully from partner to partner twirling and swirling about the floor with gay abandon while Edmure stayed at his lord father’s side downing cup after cup of sweet summer wine and brooding. She beamed despite her various partners’ drunken clumsiness, bad breath and boorish jokes. Tonight she must play the vivacious young girl so that she could hold Edmure’s attention will keeping her distance. Finally, when her feet ached from being stepped on one too many times she decided that it was time to retire much to her dance partner's disappointment. 

Sansa slipped out of the fray and into a quiet corridor absently humming to herself. As she walked down the hall Sansa could have sworn that she heard the sound of footsteps in the distance. Could it be? No, probably not, just wishful thinking. There was no way he should seek her out so soon. Besides she needed to be cool and aloof for now. Eager to get her beauty sleep Sansa carried on and began climbing up the spiraled staircase towards her bedchamber. 

“Sansa.” Edmure called out, sheepishly his voice barely above a whisper.

Sansa lifted up her ivory skirts and hasted up the stairs struggling to contain the giddy giggle of delight bubbling up inside her chest. It really was him! By the Drowned God, he was actually chasing after her! She hadn’t expected him to react so strongly to her little game. And so quickly too. He must really be fond of her. His footfalls were music to her ears and her heart raced as they grew louder and louder. 

“Sansa, please!” He hissed again, more tersely.

He reached out and grabbing at her sleeve and making her lose her footing and tumble backward towards him. Edmure caught her by deftly wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to his chest. Flustered, Sansa refused to meet his gaze and instead studied his sleeve: bright blue with a bold red stripe down to his cuff.

“Sansa, what have I done to offend you?” 

His look of confusion pulled at her heartstrings and she could feel the heat of his body seeping through her thin gown. It would be so easy for her to just give in and kiss him. Dinner had been dull without his playful observations and throaty laugh. But no, Sansa was playing the long game. It was the only way she’d get to keep him. 

“Forgive me, my lord, its just….You make me long for things I can never have.” 

Time to heighten the drama. Sansa looked off into the distance and summoned up the memory of her father standing on the dock at Lordsport as she sailed away from Pyke for the last time. He’d grown smaller and smaller as they sailed away until she could no longer make out his figure through the thick fog. The screeching gulls seemed to be calling to her begging her to come back as she’d squeezed Theon’s hand as tight as she could promising herself that she’d never let go. Tears began trickling down her cheeks just as they did every time she thought of that cursed day. 

Edmure reached out and gently wiped the tears away with his thumb. She flinched at the touch having almost forgotten he was there. Sansa inhaled sharply and looked up at him her green eyes glistening with tears. 

“I know, I’m not good enough to be your wife, but I love you too much to merely be your mistress.” 

And with that she slipped away into the darkness before he could say another word.  
\----

Over the next few days Sansa kept her distance from Edmure but made sure that she was never far from her prey’s mind. She charmed a chambermaid into putting fresh jasmine blossoms in all of Edmure’s rooms so that her signature scent would haunt him, and convinced a laundry woman to wash all his clothes with catnip so that Esgred would follow him around the holdfast reminding him of her mistress. 

-  
Then one day Sansa was strolling through the Godswood lost in thought. During breakfast, she'd overheard the servants speculating about whether or not the newly widowed Lysa Arryn would return to Riverrun for the first time since her wedding. Sansa was busy running scenarios through her head trying to figure if she could turn this latest development to her advantage and if so how. 

From what she had heard Lady Lysa had been unhappy in her marriage. Would she encourage her brother to follow his heart and plead with their father to be lenient with him so that he would not suffer the same fate? OR had years of marital misery hardened her heart? Did she yearn to see her younger brother sacrificed on the altar of duty and family? It wouldn't be the first case of jealousy siblings wishing each other ill and it would hardly be the last. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her head snapped up like a marionette at the sound of the familiar voice and she found herself face to face with Edmure. He looked so handsome in his new forest green doublet. Her heart warmed, Sansa had mentioned that she thought that green would look fetching on him and he had listened. She wasn't used to important people listening to her. But, no! She couldn't get sucked in by his charm. This was too soon. She wasn't prepared for this right now. Sansa flushed and moved to walk passed him. 

“Wait, don’t go. I have something for you.” 

Sansa froze in her tracks then cautiously turned back. He was holding out a velvet pouch, the kind used to carry jewelry. Could it be? If so it would be the first piece of jewelry she’d ever own! The days of making due with daisy chains were gone at last! 

“My lord, I shouldn’t…” 

“Please…” 

Sansa knew she couldn’t accept it. If she accepted then the chase would be over. But.... What harm could it do to just take a peak? Yes, she would just have a look at what she was rejecting. There was nothing wrong this that. She was just being polite. Sansa took the velvet pouch trying to look wary instead of excited and opened it. Her mouth fell open as she pulled out a silver warbler with a jade orb in its beak, hanging on a delicate chain. She gasped staring dumbly at the gift. 

“I know your family’s sigil is the golden kraken but this seemed to suit you better.” 

Sansa knew that it was common for lords to give their mistresses jewelry bearing their sigil. It marked them as theirs while serving as a consolation prize since they could never wrap them in their cloaks. So if he had had this laying around for his next doxy it would have been a trout or at least stuck with the water theme. But this, this fine piece of craftsmanship had clearly been made especially for Sansa. The jade orb matched her eyes perfectly and a bird… a reference to the feather gown she’d worn at the last feast. And it was a songbird as well, his little songbird, always singing prettily for him while he worked. Her mouth was suddenly was dry as the Red Waste and palms had instantly become as sweaty whore standing before the High Septon. 

“Do you like it?” 

Sansa nodded vigorously her face breaking out into that goofy grin Catelyn and Bess always mocked her for. They called it her “fool’s grin” and said that it made her look like a shark with all her teeth exposed. But it was much more sincere than her practice smile and such a sweet gesture deserved a genuine response. 

“It’s simply exquisite my lord!” He beamed at her enthusiastic response. 

“However, I’m afraid I can’t possibly accept.” Sansa continued her voice laced with heartbreak. 

She couldn't accept the first gift she'd received since she'd left Pyke all those years ago. Wasn't that just her luck. 

“Give it to a maiden worthy of your affections.” 

Undeterred Edmure shook his head and leaned in tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Always so humble.” He tutted taking the necklace from her hands and looping it around her neck

“I know who and what I am, my lord.” She muttered as the necklace’s clasp quietly clicked into place. 

“What you are, is lovely and kind” He insisted pressing a feather light kiss to her neck with each new word. “and beautiful….”

“My father is a traitor.” Sansa replied automatically. “My whole family are traitors.” 

“You deserve someone better.” 

“But I don’t want anyone else.” He assured her running his thumb up and down her collarbone making her shiver.

“As painful as it is we are simply not meant to be.” She persisted shaking her head dolefully as he traced the outline of her face with his fingertips.

“That’s what they said about Jenny and Prince Duncan, King Durran and Elenie, Florian and Jonquil.” 

It was a sweet yet hopelessly naïve sentiment. The type used by rogues to seduce young ingénues but from the look in his wide bright eyes Edmure seemed sincere. By the Drowned God! Sometimes it was hard to believe that he was older than her. Her trout could be such a child! Still the boyish grin he flashed her made her heart do a summersault. 

“But life is not a song, my lord.” She insisted gently brushing her lips against his knuckles.

“And it would break my heart to be your…” 

He pressed the tip of his finger against her lips and shook his head. 

“I’m not asking you to be.” He murmured before ghosting his lips over her brow in an innocent kiss. “You’re far too good for that.” 

Not his mistress…then what? Until now Edmure had drifted through life without forming any serious attachment content to lead the careful life of the bachelor, and now he was….what exactly? He couldn’t possible promise her marriage, not yet at any rate. Old man Tully wasn’t going to let his only remaining dynastic pawn go without a fight. 

“Would your father truly let you marry below the salt?” 

Sansa felt him immediately stiffen at her words his body suddenly as taunt as a drawn bowstring. Had she overstepped the mark? Crossed an invisible line? She looked up and saw that his blue eyes had darkened. 

“I will choose my bride not my father.” 

With that he pulled her into a fierce and fiery kiss. She smiled against his lip. Wrapping her arms around his neck Sansa eagerly savored the sweet taste of victory. Sure, she might not be Lady Tully by the next harvest festival. In fact, they probably wouldn’t even be able to announce their betrothal until after Lord Hoster passed away but she knew that she had Edmure heart and soul. Sansa had caught her trout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you might have noticed that I made mention of Lysa becoming a widow meaning that the events of the first book are about to unfold. 
> 
> My head canon is that in this A.U. there would be no Stark hostages in King's Landing so Jaime won't get released. Catelyn would convince Robb that Theon would be of more use to him on the front lines and talk him into they sending Sansa to negotiate with Balon. That way if Sansa defected she wouldn’t have much useful intel to pass on where as Theon could give them battle plans ect. Plus Catelyn would be getting a “dangerous influence” away from her vulnerable baby brother. 
> 
> Sansa would warn Robb because she knows that as a woman she won’t be able to reintegrate into Iron Born society the way Theon could. She'd need the Tully's approval more than her father's. Balon would have had to choose which daughter to send away and since he picked Asha over Sansa, she would have more resentment than Theon. Also I can't imagine Balon taking much interest in his young daughter so they wouldn't really have a bond. 
> 
> Thus Winterfell won't be seized and there would be no Red Wedding.


End file.
